


Buttery, Tear-stained, and Perfect

by gaymemeaesthetic



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Character Death, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Spencer Reid Whump, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:07:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27066877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaymemeaesthetic/pseuds/gaymemeaesthetic
Summary: Derek comforts Spencer after the untimely death of his mother
Relationships: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid
Kudos: 91





	Buttery, Tear-stained, and Perfect

Spencer Reid loved sending letters to his mother. He bought vintage style stationary just for her. For him it was just some stationary, but to Diana, it was everything. It was like a secret sign of trust that reassured Diana that she was getting letters from her son. From the only person that still truly cared for her through her mental illness.

Spencer much preferred talking through letters than over the phone. There were certain things you could portray through writing that you just couldn’t over the phone. And even though Spencer’s eidetic memory would keep him from forgetting, the sight of the permanent words on paper meant so much to him. It would keep Diana alive not only in his memory, but also through her trembling but flowy handwriting.

Lately, the letters became less and less. It wasn’t unusual for her to do so especially considering her declining condition. Then one day, they were in New Jersey for a case. It was rough for everyone. They had been there for a week trying to search for the unsub. Sometimes if Spencer was on a case for this long he would ask his building manager to send the letter to wherever he was, but the thought hadn’t crossed his mind yet.

Until she was walking into the New Jersey police precinct.

“Mrs. Boswell? What are you doing here?” 

“Spencer. You received some mail recently and they said they were gonna call you but I think it might be better if you heard this from me, I just-”

Almost as if on cue, Spencer’s phone started ringing.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Boswell, I have to take this, it’s the facility my mom is at.”

As Spencer put the phone up to his ear, he heard the beginning of the fateful message. He had thought of it and studied it for years. From the day he admitted her. Sometimes he spent entire nights reading over the message and memorizing it. It was the message the clinic sent to you when your loved one passed away. It had been a frequently asked question as to what the message about the death of a loved one would sound like from the clinic and Spencer dreaded the day he would get it since he was 18.

“Hello, this is an automated voice message for DR SPENCER REID,” the computerized voice spewed. “We regret to inform you that patient number 81256813, DIANA REID has passed. WE send our love to you and your former loved one. Call this number for more info. 1-800…”

The voice became clouded in Spencer’s mind by his own thoughts. It hadn’t even hit him that Derek had walked out of the area they had set up and was now calling his name. His mind swam with thoughts of “Who am I without my mom?” and “how could she be gone?” and finally “So that’s why Mrs. Boswell is here. They sent all of her belongings.” but that was the quietest thought of them all.

Before Spencer could control himself he was stumbling backward and into the arms of his coworker. He felt himself about to drift from consciousness and when he woke up he was still in Derek’s arms. Derek nor his unit chief knew why Spencer had passed out until they talked to Mrs. Boswell. Hotch ordered Derek to take Spencer back to the hotel room and to let him settle, at least until he woke up.

Spencer was curled up into Derek’s side and his tears had been streaming down his face, onto Derek’s black button up. He planned on keeping his eyes closed for a little while longer, just to savor the moment, but there was a knock on the door that penetrated the silence and made Spencer sit up fast.

“The door is unlocked, Hotch.” Derek called, putting his arm onto Spencer’s shoulder and pulling the pale man back to his body.

Hotch opened the door and walked in holding the box of mail Mrs. Boswell had when she had entered the police station. He set it on the edge of bed and pat Spencer’s knee in his odd, dad-like way.

“Sorry to hear about your mother. You don’t have to work the rest of the case if you don’t want to.”

“Thanks, Hotch.”

Hotch left the room as soon as he had entered, leaving Spencer and Derek to talk.

Spencer, still sitting in Derek’s lap, leaned forward and opened the box. Tears spilled from his eyes again and he pulled out her old scrapbook. Derek still had an arm around him and the two flipped through the pages together. There were occasional chuckles from Derek who was laughing at the pictures of Spencer when he was little.

“You know what my favorite thing is in here?” Spencer flipped to a page nearer to the front of the book, around the college age pages. “Her peach cobbler recipe. It was so simple, but she made it every year on my birthday, without fail. It’s just peaches, box cake mix, and butter, but it’s the best thing i’ve ever eaten in my life.”

Spencer turned towards Derek and realized how close they were. He felt Derek’s warm breath ghost over his lips and saw every single fleck of sincerity in his eyes. They glistened despite the dark molasses color they were. He closed the small distance between them with his lips and moved his right hand from the leather bound book to Derek’s chin. He pulled him by the chin just a little bit so Derek’s lips would part much like his mother did when she was making sure he was listening.

As soon as Derek let Spencer’s tongue enter his mouth Spencer pulled away.

“I- I’m sorry I just- ah- let’s just get back to the book. I- uh, I used to beg my mom to laminate the recipe because she would always get it covered in butter. But I guess now it’s covered in tears.” Spencer chuckled through his last words but his tears were coming out faster, harder, and more plentiful than they had before.

“Hey, kid,” Derek took Spencer’s cheek in his hand, forcing Spencer to look at him. “Don’t be sorry. And don’t say anything about me just being empathetic. Because I have wanted to do that for such a long time, and if you noticed I didn’t pull away. You’re sitting in my lap for christs’ sake! Come here.”

Derek closed the distance once again, this time getting a proper feeling of the kiss. Spencer tasted of every single sweet thing in existence, along with a slight saltiness from his tears. His lips were like pillows on a bed he could lie on for hours. Derek felt his own eyes prick with tears of happiness as he pulled away.

“When we get home from this case, I promise you, I will make you that peach cobbler.”

“Really?”

“Of course, Spencer. This recipe is buttery, tear-stained, and perfect.”


End file.
